


fish bowl.

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-24
Updated: 2004-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: Aoshi gives Misao a hand-made gift that embeds all the things he can’t say to her and more.
Relationships: Makimachi Misao/Shinomori Aoshi





	1. Part 1 - indefinite feelings, momentary happiness.

**Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me, but it is a title that always inspires me to become a stronger and better person. This fic is done in appreciation for all the people and experiences that were shared through RK.**  
  
“I’m no longer a little girl!”  
Her eyes flashed wild with anger as she shouted at me as she was trying to fix some part of the roof when everyone else was busy in something or other in the Aoiya.  
  
I knew I should have told her anything but what I did tell her in the end. But I couldn’t help it because I couldn’t just live the reality right at that moment. The good intentions I bore didn’t do anything but kill her. I ended up aggravating her more than being a help and it was over with her shouting at me.   
Then, she left me.  
  
The sun was high above me and I just walked over to where the hammer was in order to start working on the roof that she was starting to fix. But as I pounded on the tiles, I couldn’t deny the occasional helplessness I felt whenever it came to Misao.  
  
How much she didn’t need me anymore…  
And how much I needed her beside me.  
  
**fish bowl.  
By miyamoto yui**  
  
**Part 1** **-** **indefinite feelings, momentary happiness.**  
  
“WAH~! AOSHI-SAMA!”  
  
Before the last okashira passed on his title of leader to the one named Shinomori Aoshi, Aoshi brought little Misao on a trip to visit a beach. It was a trip for just the two of them and Misao was more than happy to follow the tall fifteen-year-old with strong eyes, but silent tongue.  
  
What had inspired this trip anyway? The quiet teenager never seemed the type to just stop training and take a vacation.  
The okashira’s words rang through his ears, “The strong are not strong because they can defeat anyone that comes in their way. They are strong because they have something to protect.” And when he had told Aoshi this, Aoshi remained quiet, trying to fully understand the responsibilities that were to become his once he stepped forward as the leader of the Oniwabanshu.  
  
He shook his head as a small, amused upward motion of his lips revealed that maybe he was still too young for everything. His mind was clear, but he still had much to learn about people and life.  
The tall, handsome youth ran as fast as he could towards the little girl that was screaming his name in fright as she sat on the ground while grabbing her foot. Tears streamed down her eyes.  
Even though she was trying to act tough, she was still a little girl.  
  
Some blood was dripping off her feet, and her precious one tried to tend her wound. She sniffed as he tore part of his dark uniform with his teeth in order to wrap it over the bleeding. Her big eyes, even though they were still a little red from crying, regarded her Aoshi-sama in such awe that she proudly thought, “I want to be like you, Aoshi-sama!”  
“Thank you~!” she said as she sat on the sand and then turned her head to watch the sea’s fingers scratch upon the sand as if wanting to grope for something.  
Aoshi’s eyes scanned the area around her and he picked up the slightly bloodied shell with his fingers. He looked at it as it glittered in the sun.  
  
Then, he got up and threw it back into the ocean.  
But, of course, it made no difference to the waves of the ocean. He and the little girl saw the shell plop into the water as the crashing of the waves crowded their ears.  
  
When he took her upon his shoulders, she grinned so widely that he found himself slightly smiling too. A gentle look came to his face as he thought, “This is the kind of life you should lead, Misao.”  
As if reading his thoughts, Misao hugged his head and looked down at him while laughing happily to herself. She hugged him so warmly that he closed his eyes for a small moment.  
  
If only…  
If only things could have stayed that way just a bit longer.  
  
But good things never lasted forever.  
Okina said goodbye to Misao for Aoshi, but Aoshi was at the doorway staring at Misao. He couldn’t quite feel the reality of leaving her yet, but he refused to get misty-eyed over her. After all, what would everyone regard him as if he broke down like that? What if he truly conveyed the feelings he felt at that moment?  
Her heart would break once he left. But what could he have said or done to stop the breaking of his own?  
  
And when he almost killed Okina, he left without looking back at Misao. He stood before her with his back towards her because he didn’t want her to see the person that he had become. It was a shell of the person she once knew.  
If he looked back, maybe he would have changed his mind. That was the kind of power she had over him…  
  
Through it all, she still wanted him back.  
When Kenshin told him that Misao, of all people, the person whose heart he had crushed into little pieces, was waiting for him, his weak resolve began to break before him. He began to understand more and more of what Kenshin was trying to tell him. After that fight, he had to keep his promise, hoping that she would accept him.  
  
When Misao ran into his arms, he knew he had been.  
  
But it always bothered him if her perception of him had changed. And did she only regard him as her big brother? Even if she didn’t, she couldn’t live a normal life with him.  
  
Not someone like him.  
  
Yes, he would have to learn to let go…  
  
But that day came too soon. That day was today.   
  
Misao had to grow up and he could no longer hold her from that.  
  
  
**Tsuzuku… / To be continued…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was just meant to be reflective. At first, I had no idea what to write, so I just typed and wondered when the character would come to me. The more I typed, I realized that this would be about Aoshi.  
> Even though Aoshi doesn’t really do anything but think, I thought that it would be appropriate. I don’t know why I made this, but I find it quite intriguing. It is because even though you move  
> through his thoughts, I wanted to convey different emotions that streamed from one thing to another. I thought it would be interesting and challenging at the same time. (Also, I was re-reading “Mitsukaru” for Tennis no Oujisama and I really liked Ryouma’s thoughts versus Fuji’s. The feel for each character was so different, but they were within the same fic.  
> I didn’t give much thought to it then, but I thought that was pretty cool. ^_^)


	2. Part 2 – “the same person”

**Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me, but it is a title that always inspires me to become a stronger and better person. This fic is done in appreciation for all the people and experiences that were shared through RK.  
  
** **Part 2 –** **“** **the same person** **”**  
  
There must have been a season in that distant past that can’t be recalled; for time doesn’t stop for anything or anyone. Even kamisama can’t seem to commit time to his whim. In the end, it is hopeless to hold onto something that has long past gone with nothing but a memory left behind.   
  
  
When the rains fall, the leaves change color, the snow falls, the flowers bloom, or the sweltering sun shining itself until nonexistence, there is nothing but time enwrapping itself within each person born.  
Taking a little bit of life from each person in order to live, it is a vampire that sucks away on the spirits of humans that wander about the earth, pretending as if they know exactly what they are doing and that they know precisely where they are going. I too am part of this marauding race. I try to find purpose in things that may not have any meaning for me later.  
  
It is a wonder what memories can do. They make you re-live something that will never come back.  
  
And even though they act innocently, as if they are just images painted within the constraints of your mind, an inaccurate picture of reality and yet presenting all of its transcendent, yet translucent truth, they can conjure up the intensity and reality of that particular moment as if it were happening at the very moment you thought of it. The person you were talking with, the colors of the sky, the smell of the vendor selling food in the booth next door…these are things only unique to you, even if they are commonplace, outside of your mind and the boundaries of your physical surroundings.  
  
But within your own mind, the depths can never be compared to in human or tangible terms.  
  
They continue within your mind for eternity. Recalling and forgetting at the same time, you gradually wonder if it happened at all. Your mind loves to play tricks like that.  
  
Your mind is wonderful thing. Just as equally, it is a horrifying entity as well. You can convince yourself of anything and make it real or unreal all through a single idea that branches out to become quite contorted and so tortuous.  
  
I opened my eyes to stare at the wall in front of me.  
Even though I should be going about doing anything but this, I can’t seem to get up. There are many things to think about and the weight of all of it becomes very troublesome.   
  
  
I stress myself out to the point that I cannot sleep, but I cannot help myself. She tells me that I should calm down even though she cannot tell me aloud. Her eyes always stare at me with its sad expression even though she tries to smile at me with her lips curving upward in the way that I am accustomed to, but always enchanted by whenever she does so for me.  
  
I close my eyes again, trying to recall all the different expressions she ever gave me. And somehow, with time, they became sadly poor in quality. I would only remember certain parts like the way her lips curved higher when she was really happy or the way her eyes sparkled whenever she learned something new.  
  
Why couldn’t I recall everything though you were always with me? Did you know that whenever you were away from me, my thoughts would always find their way back to you?  
You probably won’t believe me and I am no good with words either. But in this case, words don’t mean anything at all. They are like leaves stepped on and the little pieces fly with the wind to an unknown place, scattered into separate, indistinguishable parts. Just like broken glass.  
  
Yet, like the glare of the sun on the snow, there was something that resembled hope. To me, Misao was a light that I wanted to hold with all my being, but I couldn’t find myself touching her because I didn’t want to taint her with my dirty hands.  
She may have adored me, but I felt guilty. And so, the pile of snow began to pile within me. For all the sins I’ve committed under my name, I couldn’t forgive myself. So how could I accept her forgiveness for my wrongdoings?   
  
  
The snow began to harden and I wanted to become unfeeling even though she kept on pushing forth that I was warm. “I love holding your hand, Aoshi-sama,” she used to tell me. “It’s always so warm.”  
  
How could she look at me very clearly and with so much affection? How could her thoughts of me remain unmarred by the blood shed for me to continue my existence?  
  
I knew I tried my best to live and survive in this world. Even though, now, it is silent and the chaos of war doesn’t call me to action, I continue to fight a battle that carries on within the boundaries of my mind, heart, and soul. No one can win, and I am losing myself more and more.  
  
Even the sunshine of her smile cannot melt me.  
  
The brilliance that I want to experience is going farther and farther away from me. And I can’t seem to understand if it is because of the circumstances, or am I blocking my own way? In either case, I cannot move forward and nor can I step backwards. I cannot run away, and so I remain alone on this cold path that I’ve chosen to live.  
  
She has called my eyes once, “Ice blue eyes.”  
When she became truly angry, she glared at me and I thought that maybe this was just the way things should have remained. Why? Because she deserves to live normally.  
  
And if I stay next to her, I will continue to drain away the life that she lives on so vibrantly.  
  
But like a flower out in the desert, I cannot live without the rain that comes but once a year.  
Even though I know there is nothing else to keep me alive and even though no one will hear or see me if I die on the hot desert sand, the rain knows something lived underneath it.  
It gave it purpose to live and had something to look forward to…  
  
My eyes close tightly as I find myself crying two single tears. When I open my eyes, my tears fall into my lap, never touching the ground at all. They discolor my kimono by making darker spots upon the plain, blue material. I know I have only come here to contemplate because I have once again run away from the world, thinking of a plan of action as to what I should do next.  
  
“Do you enjoy this?” Himura asked me once when I visited him. We were sitting side by side and the air was filled with nothing but the silence of peacefulness.   
“Ah,” I confirmed while staring at the wall with my eyes open and my mind filled with its familiar commotion.  
  
Calculated thoughts require much thought. Optimal decisions entail clear goals, a vision of the possible future.   
  
But what if you can’t imagine anything?  
  
With my hands in fists, I close my eyes once more.  
  
In this period of time, within our changing country, I am no longer needed. And even though I understand that I must change in order to live a life that I was only “half” accustomed to, you can’t help but stop the beating of your heart or the blood that flows through your veins.  
It is a part of me.  
  
The rush of contending with other people. Protecting everyone around you. Keeping the name of honor as your badge of life. These are things that can’t be taken away.  
  
I fight. It defines who I am. It is something I cannot change.  
  
I train everyday with this reason alone, and yet I know that I live in a time where there is no place for me. If I felt isolated before, like being the youngest leader selected or living because my best friends and comrades sacrificed their lives for me, I am beside myself with the aloneness and sadness that overwhelms me.  
  
It seems that no matter how much I try, I can’t ever get it right.  
I want to be happy, and yet I make opportunities so that I won’t.  
  
It is because I fear of losing it.  
Losing it all…  
  
Losing what is left of what I used to be. And still, I live for the “future” that is so dim, and yet so filled with opportunities.  
  
And I cling onto her, My hope incarnate.  
  
“Aoshi-sama?”  
I opened my eyes slowly to the pleasant distraction of that familiar voice. Its tone is filled with hesitancy and she opens the door slowly. I can hear the difficulty she has with opening the door because she doesn’t fling it as usually does.  
  
I absorb the way she says my name. There are many different ways she has called my name, but none of them was quite like this one. Yearning, scared, upset, and loving all in one call.  
  
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt her and slice through the tension that has seemed to build up between us.  
“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one that yelled at you,” she says as she closes the door behind her and leans her body on it. I can tell because it creaks from her weight.  
  
My back still faces her, but I can hear the sigh that comes out of her lips.  
  
“Because I’m the one that caused you to be mad,” I calmly told her while trying not to look up to the ceiling to keep the tears from falling all over again.  
  
  
I don’t want to betray my thoughts. I don’t want to change her mind to my favor because I can’t think of anything but be blinded for her happiness to continue on without me interrupting it. I just can’t seem to understand why she wants me to be within that realm.  
  
I can’t live without her. I know this, and yet-  
  
“I’m not going through with it.” She starts to laugh. It has a dark tinge to it. “I know it’s selfish and people can call me an old maid all they want, but I’m not marrying that person. Just because Oyaji says he wants to see me live a ‘normal’ life. Just what is normal, Aoshi-sama? Tell me~!”  
“You are a child,” I tell her again for the second time that day.   
“For once….just once…” She pushes herself off the door and comes over to me. She kneels in front of me and puts her hands on my shoulders. With a desperate look in her eyes, she shook my shoulders. “Aoshi-sama, I just wanted to see if you would do something. If you would say anything.”  
“And what would you like me to say, Misao?” My eyes pierce straight into hers.  
  
I have to act like I’m rejecting her so that she’d go…  
Because I know I can’t do it.  
  
“That…that…” she stammered, unable to finish her sentence. Her pretty face is soon splattered by a steady stream of raindrops.  
  
My heart aches.  
  
She lets go of me and I get up to get a bag from one corner of the room. I come back and sit in front of her. She looks at the package and at me. In silence, I meticulously and carefully take out the round, glass bowl that I have made with my own hands. I had someone teach me.  
“And as a gift, I wanted to give you this.”  
  
Misao can’t believe either intention, that I’m willing to give her away and that I’m giving her a present for it.  
  
Then, I look at the bowl, not wanting to look at her. I just can’t. “I saw someone making glass and I wanted to make one for you. You can put water and fish in it. I call it a fish bowl.”  
  
My tired eyes look up to hers. She is still in shock and doesn’t know what to do or how to respond.  
  
And I am upset at myself for being so stupid and weak.  
  
Because I don’t know if I can truly make her happy.  
  
“What? Do you want me to say that I can’t live without you?” I whisper to her as I stare straight  
into her eyes. A little bit louder, I pose the question, “Do you want me to say that I oppose you belonging to anyone but myself?”  
  
My heart is pounding. I never tell how I really feel and now, out of my frustration, I find myself wanting to scream it out to her.  
  
Almost in a shout, I finally say, “Do you want me to say that if you ever leave me, I’ll surely be lost?  
  
How can you ask me that, Misao…  
…when it isn’t enough and I can no longer express my real feelings within words?”  
  
She looks at me and closes her eyes tightly, as if drinking this all in. She leans forward to put her  
head on my chest and shakes her head. “I can never read your mind. I don’t understand you. And I never know where you are, even though you’re right beside me.”  
  
At that moment, I began to kiss her…  
  
“I’m not the one, Misao.”  
She nods her head. “I should know what’s best for me.”  
  
Later on, when she pushes off my kimono, she closes her eyes to kiss the scars on my chest...  
As if to tell me that everything is okay.  
  
That there is still hope for a better future…  
I still believe there is. There has to be.  
  
She tells me there is and I believe her. She is evidence of that I hope that’s left within me.  
  
  
You are all that I have left.  
  
There are times in your life when you are swimming through your life and you’re wondering where everything will lead towards. There is no evidence of you having come from your past and there is still no more proof of your future. And through this murkiness, the light that you seem to follow in all of the clarity within your mind begins to become hazy.  
  
But then again, there is nothing accurate in the world. We’re living in a bowl.  
  
Looking out, looking in. Searching within for answers that can’t really be seen, even with our mind’s eye.  
  
We cling to the past as if it can be held within our grasps. But we all know that in some isolated dimensions of time, we exist then, now, and later. It’s hard to distinguish the person who is dying and who is living stronger.  
  
And yet, you are still classified as “the same person”,  
living in the unforgiving past and for the nameless future.  
  
Yes, just a large fish bowl…  
Not really going somewhere, not really coming from anywhere…  
  
 **Owari. / The End.  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always loved Aoshi. (And if it weren’t for Souzou Sagara, he’d still be my number one favorite Kenshin character.) And when I think of it now, Tezuka is like him. But what I’m trying to say is that I made this fic because of my love for Aoshi and his pairing with Misao.  
> As I progressed within the fic, when I thought of them, I thought, “Fish bowl”. Don’t know why and I understand how random that is, but that was the thought that passed through my head. And I knew I had to write about it. But more than this, I knew that I also wanted to write about Misao intimately touching those scars of his. I thought it would be so sexy, yet poetic.  
> And yet, I had the hardest time picking the perspective in which to do this in. That’s why it had  
> taken me weeks just to think over this fic.
> 
> This is one of those odd pieces that’s not supposed to make sense.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Love,  
> Yui


End file.
